


I Want It All

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [9]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Begging, Bisexual Aaron Hotchner, Body Image, Body Worship, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual, Consensual Sex, Crying, Day 7 Kinktober, Day 7 Kinktober 2020, Day 7 Kinktober 2020 Overstimulation, Day 7 Kinktober Overstimuation, Day 7 Overstimulation, Day Seven Kinktober, Day Seven Kinktober 2020, Day Seven Kinktober 2020 Overstimulation, Day Seven Kinktober Overstimulation, Day Seven Overstimulation, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Men Crying, Multiple Orgasms, OOC Hotch, One Shot, Out of Character, Overstimulation, POV Second Person, Pain, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Prompt: Overstimulation, Prostate Milking, Punishment, Safeword Use, Safewords, Short One Shot, Smut, Song Lyrics, Song: I Want It All (Arctic Monkeys), Sub Aaron Hotchner, authority kink, bisexual reader, dom reader, sir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: After Hotch puts himself in harm’s way, you reaffirm your relationship via punishment.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/You
Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862236
Kudos: 49





	I Want It All

_"Blind faith,_

_Heartache,_

_Mind games,_

_Mistakes,"_

\- "I Want It All," _Arctic Monkeys_

* * *

As soon as you entered Hotch's apartment that night, Hotch at your heels, you dropped your go-bags and headed straight for the bathroom. Just like on the jet, there were no words other than what was necessary so as to not alert the others. In Hotch's apartment – technically both yours and his apartment, but you were the one to move in with him – there were no secrets, no hiding. Tonight especially, you both could be free while Jack was sleeping at Jessica's.

In the bedroom, you sat at the foot of his bed expectantly. Falling into the rhythm, Hotch knelt at your feet, eyes on the carpet in front of him. "Color?" You asked.

"Green," he answered without hesitation.

"If this gets too much tonight you need to let me know. Do you understand me?"

Hotch nodded and then remembered that that was never a satisfactory answer unless it was accompanied by words. "Yes, Sir." Hotch recited to you one of the rules of the bedroom, one Hotch had trouble following. "Only you can punish me. I cannot punish myself."

Reaching down between your legs, you smoothed your hand through his thick, dark hair. You took that moment just to admire him as he was, greying at the temples, too many lines on his face from sternness rather than laughter, the depth and intelligence in his brown eyes. "Good boy." When you removed your hand, you saw him lean forward on his knees, reluctant to part from your touch, but he sat back on his heels again soon enough. That you let slide. But that was the only thing you could so easily forgive from him in that moment.

You took a deep breath. And then your scene started. "You've been a very bad boy." Hotch was shivering already, though he still didn't look at you without permission yet. "Tell me what you've done, Aaron."

"I…" He stopped and you used the toe of your boot to tilt his chin up, the motion gentle with practice. Once he met your gaze, he continued, "I broke one of the rules."

"Which rule?" You prompted impatiently.

At your feet, Hotch blinked just once. "The first rule. I'm supposed to take care of myself, to not put myself in danger." His hands that were laying flat on top of his thighs bunched into fists. "I put myself in danger, and I'm very sorry."

"That's right. You're supposed to stay safe. We have these rules for a reason, don't we? You belong to me." Leaning down, you snatched the knot of Hotch's tie in your hand and jerked his forward a bit. Hotch's breath caught in his throat. You reiterated, " _You belong to me_ and someone almost took you away from me today _forever_."

This time when Hotch blinked you could see the tears that he was trying to force back. That wouldn't do at all. "I'm," he started to stutter, "I'm sorry, Sir. I don't want that."

"Don't you like being mine, my pet?" You pressed your face closer to his until you could feel his breath fan out across your skin, his breathing coming in pants already. Of course, his breath smelled like coffee as always. You never complained.

"Yes, Sir," Hotch fervently insisted, raising his voice, "I want you. I want to belong to you. Please don't," his voice broke, but he refused to cry, "please don't leave me."

"Hush, now, none of that." You released his tie and sat back on the bed again, both palms on the bedspread, legs spread wide. "I will never leave you. But I need you to follow these rules, Aaron. These rules are for you, for your safety. Do you understand?"

"I do, Sir." Hotch pitched forward on his knees, control finally crumbling. "I understand and I want to please you. I want to make it up to you, show you how sorry I am." He touched you without permission, burying his face into your thigh, bunching up your pants suit leg in the process. His hands grasped at your calves like a lifeline as if any moment you were the one who could be ripped away. You knew the feeling exactly having experienced it less than fourteen hours ago.

* * *

_The unsub was going down a dangerous route that you've all been on before, though this would be his first time. Suicide by cop. It was messy, one reason why the BAU always went first, followed by SWAT. At least this time the unsub had no hostages to hide behind. So, it should have been so easy to get in and get out._

_Everyone had their vests on, and you divided up into teams. Hotch went with Reid, Rossi with Emily, and Morgan with you. You would have preferred to be with Hotch, but in these situations, you both couldn't afford any distractions no matter how slight. The both of you were also frankly terrified of anyone finding out. So, this is the way it had to be, though you both wished otherwise. Still, you trusted Hotch. He was one of the careful ones, he was always in control, especially out in the field. But not this time._

_You and Morgan found the unsub, trying to talk him down. "You don't have to do this, man," Morgan said confidently. Neither one of you were backing down, guns raised and bodies angled sideways to minimize yourselves as targets. "Read the room. It's over. Turn yourself in."_

_"You don't want to go out like this," you jumped in, hoping to overwhelm the unsub into compliance. "No one will remember you if you die in this room. Isn't that what you want? To be remembered?"_

_The unsub's own gun wavered in the air as he looked to be on the cusp of submission. But then he controlled his trembled, and the muzzle of that gun was aimed at you. "Yeah, I do want to be remembered." He sneered, "I want to be remembered as the guy who took down two FBI agents and died trying!"_

_"No!" Hotch suddenly shouted from the unsub's right, and the unsub jerked in that direction. His gun fired wildly. Morgan saw the window of opportunity and took it, tackling the unsub to the wall. The gun fell to the floor. The unsub was in cuffs in no time at all._

_As soon as you were sure Morgan could handle it, you turned to face Hotch. He was standing there, completely unharmed. Almost as if it were some miracle, you could see the bullet holes in the wall all around his frame, almost like an outline. Not a single shot hit him, not even in the vest. Reid was already rattling off the statistics of that, but neither you nor Hotch heard him as you stared each other down in your own silent conversation._

_Though all you wanted to do was run into his arms, you tamped down on that urge. Instead, you walked away to help Morgan wrestle the unsub out to one of the police vans. Behind you, Hotch watched in silence. He knew that this wasn't the end._

* * *

You grabbed a fistful of Hotch's hair and pried his face away from your leg. His face was still absent of tears, for now at least. "I don't think you deserve to touch me. You don't even get to look at my body under these clothes, do you hear me, pet?"

"Yes, Sir," Hotch whimpered.

"That's right. You need to be punished." You released the grip on his hair, simultaneously pushing him away from your body. "Stand up, pet."

He scrambled to do as he was told.

"Now strip all the way."

With that command, his movements were a little less rushed. One of the things you noticed about Hotch was that he didn't much care for his own body or looks. Hence, the rules. All of the rules were pretty benign in nature, but Hotch acted like you asked the impossible of him. In truth, the rules were this:

· Take care of yourself. Do not take unnecessary risks. Do not put yourself in danger.

· Eat, drink, and rest every day. Find the time. Make the time. Paperwork can wait.

· Only you were allowed to punish him. He could not punish himself.

Despite frequently breaking these rules, Hotch was doing better than he had been before. The dark circles under his eyes were fading, and he was filling out his suits a bit better than before. The team had noticed that he was happier. It was progress.

But then instances like these set you back, and so, Hotch needed punishment. These were a little more creative than the rules.

Once Hotch was naked in front of you, you watch him try not to squirm under your gaze. You both had been intimate together many times, but still, Hotch always tried to himself away. It wasn't his size that he was concerned about, but it was his scars, his old age, the softness of his belly and his less-than-defined muscles. For some reason, Hotch didn't think he was beautiful. You were determined to prove him wrong.

"Aren't you just a pretty thing, pet?"

Hotch – your stone-faced boss – blushed and dropped his eyes, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"I love to look at you," you cooed, your voice much softer than before. "Come here." Beckoning him closer, your palms slapped on your thighs. "Sit on my lap so I can get a closer look at my pretty pet."

Bare feet whispering over the floor, Hotch shuffled forward. For his size, he was all long-limbs, though more filled out than coltish Spencer Reid. Hotch knelt on the bed over your lap before you finally grabbed his hips and pulled him down on your thighs. He shivered at the contact of your clothes against your body, slightly chilled from the room. Though he wasn't hard yet, that wasn't an issue. You both knew he soon would be.

"Beautiful boy," you began, squeezing his hips before your hands started to refamiliarize themselves with his body. "My pet, how could I ever want to leave you?" Your hands drifted up his chest, flicking his nipples as they passed, and then you were cupping his face in your palms. "We're in this for the long run. I thought you'd know that by now."

Air leaves Hotch's lungs in not quite a gasp. It sounded like you punched him in the gut. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hotch's hands twitched, desperate to touch you, but he resisted this time. They hung in the air a little useless, just waiting for the opportunity. But you wouldn't give him that yet.

You kissed him. He trembled. Your hands slipped down his body, smoothing over muscle, rubbing down his thighs. Finally, they landed in his lap and took his cock in hand as you worked him to hardness. At the touch, Hotch started to melt in your lap, resting more and more of his weight on you as he began to finally relax. He was more strung out that dough, but just as plaint to your touch. All that was left now was to mold him into shape.

The only warning he had was your mouth disconnecting from his own before you flipped him to the side and rolled on top of his body. This time you were the one straddling his thighs. You pinned him to the bed easily and captured his mouth again. Your hands did not stop what they were doing. "Move up the bed, against the pillows, pet," you murmured into his mouth.

Once he did that, you were relentless in your focus on his body. Your lips left his to leave kisses everywhere, sucking hickeys into his neck even above where his shirt collars would fold, not caring who saw. Then your lips continued their journey to his nipples until they were puckered into needy, hardened buds from your attention.

Meanwhile, your hands were all over his cock and balls. You pumped, you flicked your wrist, you twisted. The only moisture you used was from his own generous precum. His balls were fondled, massaged, rolled, anything but neglected. No part of him was left untouched.

Above you, Hotch was whining steadily, unable to form any words so far. His hands were clutching the pillows stacked behind his head, and his eyes were screwed shut as he drowned in pleasure. From experience, he knew he was not allowed to move, but that didn't stop his little wiggles anyway. Even his hips thrust into your hands every now and then, which only caused you to slap his thigh before continuing in your ministrations.

It didn't take long from Hotch to get close to his ending. Accordingly, he warned you in a high-pitched groan, "I'm- I'm gonna come, Sir. Oh, God." He looked down at the top of your head, watching you love his body. "Oh, please. I want to come. Let me come, Sir."

Between kisses peppered into the scars left from Foyet on his abdomen, you told him frankly, "That doesn't sound like begging to me, and you're in no position to demand anything from me. You can do so much better, pet." You intimately knew he could for a fact. This didn't even scratch the surface compared to some of his other punishments, but admittedly, you were a little impatient yourself. You didn't even bother to look at his face. Instead, your eyes were on his cock as you watched it get redder and redder in excitement. You loved how warm it was, how soft and yet how hard, how it throbbed in your hand. "Beg me for it, my pet. Beg for your release."

"Please, please, please, let me come for you, Sir." Hotch started to slur his words. "I wanna come for you, I wanna be your good boy. I – I need it so bad. So bad it hurts."

"Does it hurt, pet?" You tutted at him. "But I don't know if you deserve it. Are you sorry yet? Have you been good? Do you promise to be good?"

Hotch bit his bottom lip in frustration before the dam inside him burst open. "I promise I'll be your good boy and follow the rules, Sir. Anything for you. I wanna be good, I want to, I want to! I promise! I'm so sorry, I'm so very sorry, ah, fuck!" You had grasped the base of his cock to prevent him from coming yet, but that didn't stop your other hand from twisting around the head of his cock anyway.

"You sound so pretty. Alright, pet. You can come." And you moved your grip on the base of his cock, milking his orgasm from him.

Immediately, Hotch started coming. His first spurt shot the highest and landed on his chest around his nipple like a piece of jewelry shining in the low light of the bedroom. His next spurts were a little weaker, coating his belly and hiding away his faded scars from view. But you didn't stop working his cock.

Quickly slipping two fingers in your mouth, you wetted them liberally before pressing them underneath his sac and pushing inside his tight hole. Since you hadn't prepped him first, the pressure was overwhelming, but you found his prostate with ease, hooking your fingers into it. At the internal stimulation, another orgasm rippled up from Hotch's body as he spilled more and more of his come on himself, effectively making a mess.

One orgasm became two, and then three all back to back to back. Hotch's moans went up a notch, dissolving into whimpers. You pulled your eyes away from his cock to his face, watching and waiting. Finally, those tears that you had been looking for were there, spilling down Hotch's high cheekbones as he started to sob.

"R-red," he managed, and you stopped, pulling your hands away.

It was a race to fetch a warm washcloth and a cup of sink water. You made it back to the bed in record time to wash away his mess before it could get too sticky. "That's it, Aaron. You did such a good job for me," you soothed quietly. "My beautiful boy. You're safe with me. You're home now. That's it." You watched him cry, knowing that he needed that release as well, but it wasn't so easy for him to do without punishment. "Cry it all out, pet. You'll feel better."

Slowly Hotch's sobs died down to hiccups. Only then did he raise his arms and ask for your touch again. You jumped at the chance, curling him into your embrace and kissing his forehead over and over again. This was always the hardest part for you during his punishments. After overstimulation, Hotch always needed his space to breathe and calm down a little before he could touch you again, otherwise he'd get too overwhelmed. With his head nestled against your chest, you coached him into getting his breathing back under control.

When you both were calm again, his heartbeat steady under your palm, you broke the silence. "I don't want to watch you die out there, Hotch."

"I know." His voice was so small and slightly muffled by your arm, but you heard him all the same. "I don't want to watch you die either."

"What a mess we've gotten ourselves into." Your fingers pushed through his hair, smoothing it out. "But I guess we just couldn't help ourselves. I wanted you. I wanted love. I wanted this. I wanted it all, but only from you." With a sigh, you pressed another kiss this time to the crown of his hair. "We can make it work, though, can't we? We can make it worth all of the heartache and mistakes. But only together."

Despite his position, Hotch managed a nod. "Together." And that was the closest either of you could get to saying, "I love you." But it had to be enough for now.


End file.
